Chapter 1: Breaking Angels
Gunshots and screaming were white noise to Aiden as she lay in bed, the white walls of her small flat reflecting the thin streams of light coming through the blinds. Violence was nothing new to her. She was born into it, breathed it in every second since her first breath, and it pumped through her veins as thick as her Irish heritage. The I. R. A. had consumed her father's life until the day his reflexes began to fail and he became a liability rather than a dedicated, useful soldier. After that, defending what he viewed to be the "right cause" became her responsibility. Even her name, meaning "born of fire", seemed to be his planning for her future.
Rolling over, Aiden sighed and got out of the warm bed, grabbing the desert eagle off the bedside table as she began to get ready for the night. Her holster sat beside the gun, the rich leather well taken care of. Slipping it on over her black turtleneck, Aiden waltzed over to her dresser and snatched the cargo pants off the edge and slid into them. It was going to be chilly, even with her blood racing due to the task she'd been assigned. Sick…she was sick of the blood and the death…the mayhem and violence. Aiden sighed as she tossed her curling hair behind her and began lacing her boots.
Libertas—the script wrapped around her right wrist. She was waiting for the day freedom would finally be granted to her. For now, she ran on faith alone. Sola Fide ran down the side of her left hand, resting between her thumb and first finger. Both sets of tattoos were in plain black ink with a scrolling script that seemed to weave each letter together. Her back held two pieces; one was a Celtic cross in green and black ink about the size of her index finger and middle finger put together, the other was a small pair of angel wings torn and chained. The wings were each the size of her palm and rested over each shoulder blade. The cross sat on the lower right portion of her back. However, with her clothes on, only the Sola Fide was visible.
Aiden headed out into the night, silent among the noise of the city. She could name every street in Dublin, every cobblestone drive and every back-alley bar where lurked the worst sort of people. She should know, after all, she was one of them. It disgusted her. Luckily, a cease-fire was in the making. Letting out a quiet breath of relief at the thought, she ducked into the sleazy bar.
Hours seemed to drag by, but at last, the target stood up and prepared to leave. Aiden watched and waited patiently until the dark-haired man passed the threshold of the door before following. Slipping the cool metal of her gun into her palm, she made a quick and silent exit from her dark corner. Outside, the "gentleman" finished taking a leak on the alley's wall and zipped his fly at the precise moment Aiden reached him.
No cry was heard as she rapidly dropped the man to his knees, hand over his mouth. Leaning forward, a curtain of hair slipped gracefully over the man's shoulder. The dark color of the man's coat stood in contrast to Aiden's bright red-gold hair. She was as Irish as far as looks went, but her blood held her heritage deeper than time could erase with aging and pigmentation loss. She pressed her lips close to the man's left ear, the silencer to her gun pressed firmly to the back of his occipital lobe.
"Scream or make any sound, and you'll rue the day your Mama met your Da…" The man nodded, fear making him sweat and shake under the weapon pressed to his skull. "Good…Now be a good li'l bastard and sit still for a moment". Aiden stood to her full height of 5'7" and cocked back her gun. Her soft voice rang into the night as she repeated the prayer her father had said to his victims and had taught her before she became the monster she now was.
"Vater Unser im Himmel, Geheiligt werde Dein Name, Dein Reich komme. Dein Wille geschehe, Wie im Himmel, so auf Erden. Unser tägliches Brot gib uns heute, Und vergib uns unsere Schuld, Wie auch wir vergeben unseren Schuldigern. Und führe uns nicht in Versuchung, Sondern erlöse uns von dem Bösen. Denn Dein ist das Reich und die Kraft und die Herrlichkeit, in Ewigkeit. Amen." The light pop of a silenced gun ended the speech and the life of the man kneeling on the ground. The corpse slumped onto its side as Aiden walked away, the blood slowly oozing across the pavement.
She was broken inside. After every victim, her stomach rolled and she spent the night vomiting everything she had consumed in the last several hours. If she hadn't eaten, then she dry heaved until she lay panting on the floor. Her heart was telling her she should quit, but to do so would make her the new prey. No one leaves the faction until they're either dead or too old to be of use. Wishing she could change the past, Aiden pressed her sticky forehead to the cool Formica counter of the kitchen.
The sudden, shrill ringing of her phone startled her, making her flinch back a step before grabbing the offending device. Throat sore from her heaving earlier, Aiden's voice came out rougher than intended.
"Is this Aiden McLeod?" Clearing her throat, Aiden confirmed that the lady on the other end had the right person. "Ms. McLeod, we need you to come down to the hospital. Your father is in serious condition and we don't know how much longer he has. He fell down some stairs and cracked his head…"
"I'll be there soon." Her voice thick for a new reason, Aiden hung up and raced out of her flat.
The monitors surrounding the old man beeped constantly while I.V.s dripped countless fluids into the shriveled body of a soldier aged by life's cruelty and violence. Aiden walked in and dragged a chair right up to the bedside, taking the vein-covered hand laying there into her own calloused hands.
"Da…I'm here." The grey-blue eyes opened slightly, taking in the sad face of the daughter they had watched grow and blossom into a young woman. A slight smile came upon the man's face. Alastar was not a man who revealed emotions in a wide spectrum. The smile would be one of his most "flamboyant" emotions, and with that knowledge, Aiden committed it to memory.
"I know…Life's been rough on us both, hasn't it, mo mhuirnín?" Aiden nodded, not trusting her voice. Her father may have been strict and placed her in a life she regrets every day, but she still loved him. "I regret throwing you to the wolves as I did…" A flash of pain crossed Alastar's face, and he paused his dialogue. Patting his hand, Aiden urged him to continue. "I want you to be free from this bloody war." As her father inhaled, a gurgle rose from his lungs and his eyes widened in fear. Hurrying through his speech, he tightened his grip on Aiden's hand and pulled her close. "Find the Saints and you'll find freedom!"
As his words ended, a coughing fit took over, sending speckles of blood across the sheets. Only then did Aiden see the blood-soaked bandages and bruises across her father's body. Aiden hollered for a nurse and was pushed aside as the white-clothed women rushed to extend her father's fading life. In a daze, she left the hospital.
"'Find the saints and you'll find freedom' he says…well, what the bloody hell does that mean?" Sinking further into the lumpy, cheap sofa, Aiden sipped lightly at her tea. The funeral was the next day, and afterwards, she would fly to Boston with Amelie to help her in her 'mourning'. Little did her cousin know how dry and shriveled Aiden's heart was to death. At least her father lived to see her grow up. That's better than most of her victims. Sighing, Aiden set down her tea and stood up, stretching her arms up over her head. She might as well begin packing for the trip.
Translations:
Aiden—Irish for literally "born of fire". Stems from Aed, meaning fire. Aiden is the alternate spelling.
Libertas—Latin for "freedom".
Sola Fide—Latin for "by faith alone".
McLeod—pronounced Mc Cloud.
Alastar—Irish for "helper of man".
Mo mhuirnín—Irish for "my darling".
The boys will appear next chapter, promise! Review please?